Ooh, the tourists sitting next to us walked out of "The Nance" because they were offended. Didn't take them long either: just a quick escalation in body language communicating disgust and repulsion, then glances to one another and departure. That made the show much more fun. And, to be fair, we weren't expecting a minute long baring of freshly bathed, hairy ass either, nor the glint of stagelit testicles dripping with bathwater, nor some believably acted horny anonymous-sex fueled kissing. It's ok to walk out if you don't like that. We and the rest of the New Yorkers and Nathan Lane-loving tourists stuck around. And - oh yes - the elderly lesbian couple sitting on the other side of us up in the balcony were doing some discreet petting by the time intermission snuck up on us.
No, "The Nance" wasn't great writing - just good writing with a few bits of new and solidly written pathos and, mostly, the good grace to get out of the way now and then and let us enjoy a good twenty minutes, combined, of beautifully resurrected genuine old burlesque chestnuts. That you won't find anywhere else.
1 comment:
The Nance sounds pretty adorable. I hope I get the chance to caption it (the only way I tend to interact with live theater these days), but even if I don't, I might try to get an actual ticket (can't remember the last time that happened). I've always had a soft spot for Mr. Lane, and for the archetype of the Nance (one of my favorite bits in The Celluloid Closet is, after 20 minutes of various gay and straight luminaries decrying the trope of "The Sissy" in various films and schticks, Harvey Fierstein looks at the camera and says, "I always liked The Sissy. Because, well... I am a Sissy.") Throw in the burlesque setting, and it all sounds pretty irresistible.
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